


An Englishman Among Vikings Prologue

by Heinkelboy05



Series: An Englishman Among Vikings [1]
Category: DreamWorks Dragons (Cartoon), How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Christianity and Viking conflict references, Cultural Differences, Dragons, F/M, Historical, Historical References, Historically Authentic, Mature rating due to violence and other possible themes, Norse Lore and References, Takes place right after HTTYD1, Viking Era, Vikings, War, medieval era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:27:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26115667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heinkelboy05/pseuds/Heinkelboy05
Summary: The year is 1060 CE. The Viking age is nearing its final years. In the Barbaric Archipelago, the Dragon War has ended thanks to the efforts of Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III. Now, for the first time in centuries, peace exists between dragons and Vikings within the northern lands of Europe. As this is happening, the world they live in is rapidly changing as the Viking era is reaching it’s final climatic years. Now, Hiccup and his friends must contend with a new threat as it rises to threaten the very peace they had fought to ensure.Now witness the beginning of their saga as chronicled in the accounts of Wulfric Blackwell, an English mercenary who become a key witness to the events that changed the course of history forever as he encounters the Dragon Riders for the first time, beginning his journey among the Vikings.(This is a historical AU of the HTTYD universe which follows the events of the series (movies, tv, comics, etc) with historical elements and my own little twists as well)(DISCONTINUED. NEW VERSION OF STORY COMING SOON AFTER THE HOLIDAYS)
Relationships: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III/Astrid Hofferson
Series: An Englishman Among Vikings [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1896301
Comments: 21
Kudos: 21





	1. The Story Begins

**Author's Note:**

> And this is where it all starts. This is officially the second story that I will be posting alongside my "On the Gallian Front" series. I have stated this beforehand that I will add more stories. So a few more may follow as I try to write them all and keep track. Wish me luck.
> 
> Just to let you know that this is my first HTTYD story so I may not be as good at this as some other people are. But I am willing to try my best in trying to make this story as entertaining for you as possible. The idea for the story was inspired by a similar story I once read on this site, plus I have been interested in the Vikings for some time recently so I figured this could be the series to work with. Also, for this story, I will be closely following the story of the HTTYD series such as the movies, tv-series, and comic, though I will add other scenes, stories, and such that are set in this universe. This one here is just the start of the series for this universe. This one here is merely a prologue, which helps set up what will occur later in the series after the first movie, with the events of the short films and the Riders/Defenders of Berk happening once this prologue is over.
> 
> The idea is that this will be historically authentic while still conveying the feel of the HTTYD universe as well as that of the Viking era (and make it both fun and entertaining to read). I'll be using historical sources, as well as using series like the Vikings tv series, For Honor, and the upcoming Assassin's Creed: Valhalla as inspiration as well. I will work on finding more material that I can use to write this story but will welcome any help for this...I feel like I could use some help.
> 
> With that out of the way, enjoy the first part of the story.

_(Note: I do not own anything. This is purely for entertainment purposes only.)_

_"Before we begin, I must apologize for my rather blunt way of writing. I'm afraid that of all my talents, I'm quite better with a sword than I am with a quill and ink. For those of you who are reading this book right now, I have a story to tell you. It's a story that here I have recorded within these journals which I believe deserves to be remembered. What follows is a record of events involving myself and a group of individuals who, thanks to our actions, changed the world forever. But for my friends, their story began weeks before I ever met them."_

**_Isle of Berk, Southern Barbaric Archipelago  
Winter, Year of our Lord, Late 1059 CE _ **

Slowly opening his eyes, Hiccup slowly turned his head to see what it was that was nudging his face. He soon saw none other than Toothless, who seemed glad to see that his rider and friend was okay. As Toothless continued to nudge Hiccup, all the boy could do was smile at this gesture.

"Hi, Toothless. I'm happy to see you too, buddy," said Hiccup.

Toothless continued to nudge at Hiccup until his paw came down on Hiccup's stomach. This caused a surge of pain to resonate within Hiccup, forcing him to sit up and wrap his arms around his stomach in a futile attempt to ease the pain. After a few seconds, it managed to go away, though Hiccup's eyes widened as he noticed just where he had woken up: in his house. Immediately, his mind began to panic as this realization finally dawned on him.

"I'm…in my house," nervously said Hiccup before looking to Toothless and adding " _You're_ in my house. Does my dad know you're here?"

His question went unanswered as Toothless suddenly began bouncing around the room, apparently in the excitement that Hiccup was okay. In his excitement, he knocked down the cooking rig that was over the fireplace in the process. Eventually, he found himself leaping up onto the upper beams of the room. As this continued, Hiccup knew that he had to do something before his dad came back and found Toothless.

Moving to try and get out of the bed, he stopped when his hand fell upon his lower left leg. Whatever he was touching, it just felt…strange. Like he wasn't even touching his leg, yet sure that's where it was supposed to be. Toothless seemed to realize this as well and dropped back down to be next to Hiccup. Hiccup was smart enough to know that Toothless probably knew something that he didn't. After all, the dragon was smarter than most people took dragons for.

Removing the blanket to reveal his legs, Hiccup saw that the lower part of his left leg was gone. In its place was a prosthetic. The prosthetic leg was made out of metal and wood. The wooden section, which acts as an ankle, was attached to his leg while the metal part, which acts as afoot, was hooked onto the wood. There was also a spring inside to act as a shock absorber.

In his mind, Hiccup realized that he must have gotten this during the fight against the Red Death. Almost instantly, his expression turned into a downtrodden one. He was hoping when he woke up only minutes ago that all of it was a dream. But this just proved that it was anything but a dream. The events at the dragon training arena, his confrontation with his father, and the battle itself, it had all happened. And Hiccup now bore the scars of that day.

So, with a heavy sigh, Hiccup turned around and let his legs dangle over the side of the bed, eventually touching the ground. Toothless approached Hiccup's new prosthetic leg and sniffed it, before raising his head to look at Hiccup, who seemed nervous about standing up. It appeared that he was still getting used to the fact that he had lost the leg and now required a prosthetic. So, after a few deep breaths, Hiccup worked to stand up, using the post on his bed for support.

Putting one foot in front of the other, he managed to stumble forward with one step. But when trying another, his tiredness and injuries caused him to fall forward. Thankfully, Toothless used his large head to help catch Hiccup before he fell. So, Hiccup decided to use Toothless as a support to help him at least walk out the door. The duo walked across the room towards the front door, Hiccup hobbling on his one good leg while using Toothless to support his left leg. It appeared that now Hiccup and Toothless had something in common: they were missing parts of their body. Toothless lost one of his tail fins, and now Hiccup lost one of his legs.

Once they reached the end of the room, Hiccup grabbed the handle and opened the door…only to close it real fast when he saw a Monstrous Nightmare not that far away. After a few seconds to recover from that, Hiccup looked to Toothless and told him "Toothless, stay here."

To his surprise, when Hiccup opened the door he saw none other than Snotlout on the back of the Monstrous Nightmare, the same one from the arena that he rode into the battle against the Red Death. And to his surprise, as Snotlout flew away, several other Vikings on dragons followed. As they flew away, Hiccup could hear Snotlout yell out "Come on, guys, get ready! Hold on tight! Here we go!"

Flabbergasted, Hiccup walked outside to see something he never expected to see in his entire life. Outside his home, in Berk, there were Vikings and dragons. But instead of fighting each other during a raid, they were instead working together. They were rebuilding Berk, with any hint of animosity from the past three hundred years of constant warfare evident all around. It just seemed too surreal to be real. Almost as if…

"I knew it. I'm dead," flat out stated Hiccup.

It was then that Stoick came up and put a hand on his son's shoulder, corrected "No, but you gave it your best shot. So? What do you think?"

As father and son moved down a couple of steps, the rest of the village noticed Hiccup was awake and soon rushed forward up the hill to greet him. Given their words and expressions, it was clear that they were glad to see that Hiccup was okay. Hiccup silently was both glad and surprised by this. He was glad that now people seemed to care about him, but it still felt strange for the village to treat him as such given how for most of his life he was known as "Hiccup the Useless". When a small crowd of Berkians had gathered around them, Stoick spoke again.

"Turns out all we needed was a little more of... this," said Stoick, gesturing to Hiccup.

"You just gestured to all of me," noticed Hiccup, with the statement bringing a smile to his father's face.

"Well, most of you," corrected Gobber as he approached. Gesturing to Hiccup's new prosthetic leg, he added "That bit's my handiwork. With a little "Hiccup Flair" thrown in. You think it'll do?"

Looking at the prosthetic, Hiccup admitted that "I might make a few tweaks."

This elected a laugh from the Vikings that had gathered. Suddenly, and unexpectedly, Astrid came up from behind and when close, she punched Hiccup in the arm, before saying " _That's_ for scaring me."

"What, is it always going to be this way? Cause...," stated Hiccup, a bit surprised by this after everything the two went through. But to his surprise, Astrid then grabbed him by the tunic and pulled him in for a kiss. There were a couple of "oohs" and "ahs" from the crowd as Astrid let go, leaving a dumbstruck Hiccup to sheepishly admit "I could get used to it."

After the two exchanged a smile between themselves, Gobber then handed Hiccup a rebuilt saddle, tail fin, and flight gear for riding Toothless, telling his young protege "Welcome home."

And it seemed Toothless wanted to join in on the fun, even with some of the Vikings screaming "Night Fury" as Toothless barged through the line. With that, Hiccup and Astrid soon mounted their dragons and with their friends, flew over Berk, enjoying the newfound freedom that came on the backs of dragons.

**_Two Weeks Later...  
York, Kingdom of England _ **

_"As for me, my part here, like most tales, starts with me in a tavern…"_

Typical weather in England was that of clouds, rain, the air feeling moist from said rain, and a rather dismal feeling among the people. It made the Isles of Britannia seem like a rather miserable place for one to live, and the locals seemed just as bleak and dismal as well. And yet, they remained on this land, showing pride in where they came from, and of their identity as Englishmen, or Anglo-Saxons as others call them. And in the northern English city of York, it was no different.

Once, it was a prosperous town built by the Roman Empire when they came to Britannia, and since then, has become one of the major trading hubs for England itself. With a population of ten thousand, the city was booming as trade brought life to York, as did the myriad of individuals who either called this city home or would pass through to trade. Though no trading was happening now, for the rains earlier that day had brought it to an end. And on this dreary night, many had either gone back to their homes, or one of the local taverns, such as the _Hog's Head_.

By far one of the more popular taverns in the city, it was quaint inside with tables and booths for its patrons, along with a bar near the rear of the building. Many of the seats were full as men and women came to either seek some shelter from the storm, rent out rooms on the second floor to stay in for the night, or perhaps to find some meat and drink to fill their stomachs. Much of the furniture showed signs of repair or otherwise damaged due to some rowdy patrons who would be thrown out.

As for entertainment, some play games such as cards or listening to a pair of musicians who were playing some instruments and singing songs for the crowd. The tavern also seemed to double as a brothel, with some ladies of the night chatting up the patrons and seducing them into the beds in the backrooms of the building, leaving many patrons satisfied in the end. All in all, it was a typical day for the tavern and its owners. Opening the door, a new patron came into the tavern, standing out from the usual crowd that frequented at this time of night.

The new patron was a young man, appearing to have seen no less than seventeen winters of age. He had a fair complexion, combed short black hair (revealed as he took off his helmet), as well as black stubble. He had green eyes and an average build. Overall, he seemed like any young man of his time, except he appeared to be more well-groomed than most.

His attire, however, made him look as if he was a skilled warrior despite his young age. Aside from the common and simple long-sleeved shirt and pants, he wore a chainmail shirt over it and wore a sleeveless red and yellow tunic with a black lion emblazoned on it. The helmet he had taken off his head was a kettle hat, a metal helmet that was simple, but effective. There were also scuffed leather boots along with leather bracers that he had fastened to protect his forearms. Lastly, he wore a pair of brown fingerless leather gloves and a leather belt with buckles over his tunic, wrapping around his waist.

The weapons he had on him helped lend credence to him as a warrior or at the very least a well-armed mercenary. An arming sword lay sheathed and strapped to the left side of his belt. Slung over his back was a customized crossbow with a quiver full of crossbow bolts tucked on the right side of the belt. The last bit of weaponry was a dagger, placed in a sheath and was right next to his arming sword.

Shaking the water off of his helmet, the young man put it back on his head as he strolled over to the bar, with the other patrons not even paying attention to him. The bartender there was a middle-aged man, with weathered features and a scruffy appearance, making it seem like he had been here longer than the rest of the staff here. As he worked, he noticed the young man approach the counter. The man then reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a few silver coins, putting them on the counter.

"Just a tankard of ale for me," stated the young man.

"You sure? I've got more to offer you? You want some food, a warm bed, maybe even someone to share it with?" asked the bartender, with his line of questioning implying he was the owner of the establishment.

"I'll pass. I've got some business to discuss with the guild registrar and then I'll be off," answered the young man.

The bartender merely gave a shrug that said _suit yourself_ as he took the coins as payment. Taking a tankard from under the counter, he turned around and poured some ale from the nearby barrels, filling the tankard near to the top. As the froth on top of the ale began to spill over, the bartender handed the mug to the young man, who took it in his hands and drank a good amount of it in one large sip.

This wasn't enough to get him drunk, but that was the man's point. He was here on business, and the last thing he needed was his mind clouded by drink or anything else. Turning to scan the crowd, he soon found the individual he was looking for.

In one of the booths was an older man with grey hair, balding at the top, and weathered features like those of the bartender. He was sitting there with his finished meal and tankard nearby, and several books and parchment, as well as other tools of his trade like a quill and wax for seals.

Having found his man, the young mercenary walked over to him, getting his attention when he put the tankard down and sat at the opposite side of the booth.

Looking up, a smirk appeared on the old man's face as he said "Ah, Wulfric Blackwell, back in York yet again. Here for work are you?"

"Why else would I be here? You're the local registrar for Mercenary Guild in York, Alfred. And, you're still using this place as your place of business," replied Wulfric, disproving Alfred's theory.

The Mercenary Guild was the main guild that regulated work for mercenaries throughout Europe. They were the middle-men for mercenaries and clients who sought their services. Alfred, as the local registrar, was the main contact for mercenaries seeking contracts. He would find those willing to take the contracts, and he would seal it with a signature for his records. Wulfric had done business with him before, and the two worked well enough that they were familiar with each other.

"I'm here because coin flows through here. And where there is coin, there are those who seek to earn it. Coin is part of our trade boy. You know that as well as I. And besides, taverns are where you find weary mercenaries, yourself included," stated Alfred.

Wulfric merely gave a light chuckle before responding with "Any contracts available here?"

"Several. Let me take a look," announced Alfred.

The man then took a small pile of parchment and began sorting through it. Each registrar had contracts from clients in the immediate area. As such, these contracts would either petitions from lords in either England or the Kingdom of Alba up north. Wulfric silently hoped that he would be able to find some decent work that paid well. Usually, the contracts for the guild came from various noblemen or rich merchants, and these folks often paid a good amount of money for the work.

"Alright, let me see here. Ah, there's a petition from the Godwinson of Northumbria. He's requesting help dealing with some unruly peasants who refuse to pay their taxes," said Alfred, reading from the first contract from the pile.

Wulfric could only scoff at the request. Tostig Godwinson was a powerful lord, and York was the seat of his power in these lands. And if he needed mercenaries to put down a couple of peasants then he must have been desperate. But Wulfric wasn't interested in simply being a bully to peasants armed with farming tools. So for that, he was going to pass.

"Next," replied Wulfric, not even thinking twice about it.

Alfred merely placed the parchment back on the table before looking at the next one and reading "Alright, well a merchant requires a pair of bodyguards for an upcoming tourney south of here."

 _Being a guard for a whiny merchant? Pass,_ thought Wulfric as he rolled his eyes. He knew a lot of English merchants, and these guys were often so annoying that it was a hassle just to do every little thing they asked. Wulfric wanted a meaningful contract. He wanted some action. Not to act as an errand boy for a bunch of fools in nice clothes. He hoped that there was something he could do, mainly so that he can get some much-needed coin in his pockets.

Seeing Wulfric roll his eyes, Alfred merely put the contract back on the pile. Silently looking through the offers, he looked for one he figured that Wulfric would be interested in. But so far, one by one, the pile of rejected offers grew larger.

But then, on the second to last contract, the old man's eyes seemed to widen, as if he noticed something interesting. Wulfric appeared to notice this as well. Curious, he bluntly asked "Well?"

Looking to Wulfric, his lips formed into a smirk as Alfred replied "How do you feel about fighting pirates?"

"Pirates?" questioned a puzzled Wulfric.

Alfred merely handed over the piece of parchment to Wulfric who looked at the contract written on it.

_His grace, the Jarl of the Southern Markets asks for mercenaries from the Guild for their services in his people's time of need. Despite the decrease in Dragon Attacks the people of the Southern Markets now face a new threat. For the past month, the Varangian pirates that have existed in these isles have now stepped up their attacks. They have begun raiding multiple villages and trading convoys. Their acts have resulted in the devastation of multiple villages, the loss of goods and coin, and the deaths of many peasants. With the support of his fellow Jarls from neighboring tribes, the Jarl of the Southern Markets is offering a hefty bounty of five hundred silver coins for any mercenary willing to aid in the protection of the Southern Markets from these pirates that threaten our shores._

_For more information, consult your local Mercenary Guild registrar._

Add to that the seal of the Mercenary Guild upon the parchment and space below to sign one's name (to indicate that they take the contract), and it made the offer seem rather legitimate. But what caught Wulfric's attention was the money. _Five Hundred silver coins._ This was more than any contract he had previously taken in the three years that he had been a mercenary. With this money, he would be set for a good long while. And it felt like a contract he could get behind. He'd take down the pirates, be a hero for a short while, and make off with a good amount of coin for his troubles.

However, he still noticed a few things within the working of the contract, like the Barbaric Archipelago. Wulfric, like many Englishmen, knew of this large collection of islands in the Norwegian and Greenland seas. Specifically, they knew _who_ lived in these lands. The Barbaric Archipelago was one of the last remaining lands in the north where the Vikings remained. Known by many as the pagan raiders of the north, who worshipped false gods and raided lands like barbarians, the Viking people had developed a fierce reputation since the day they made themselves known when they raided Lindisfarne over two hundred years ago. But that was then, now, the Age of the Vikings was considered by many to be coming to an end. Cnut and his North Sea Empire have fallen, many of the lands of Scandinavia now bowed to the Church, and Viking raids had gone down. Only those in the Barbaric Archipelago appeared to be holding out against this recession. And they were quite determined to not let their way of life die out.

"Didn't think that the Vikings would be having a problem with pirates. The way I see it, they could just scare them off with their charming demeanor," commented Wulfric.

Alfred let off a humorless laugh before adding "Vikings are a stubborn people. They resist the Church's efforts to stamp them out and they refused to leave when the dragon attacks grew. But they do pay well for soldiers when needed."

"I never imagined them as willing to accept European mercenaries," mentioned Wulfric as that particular thought came to mind.

"The Jarl of the Southern Markets is a different sort of Viking. His group of islands is home to a thriving market which is the gateway to the whole archipelago. Goods from the north and south flow through there, along with traders from both parts as well. It's probably the one place in the area where a man like you wouldn't be so out of place. The Jarl is hiring a good deal of help to protect his people from the pirates. Given the number of men he's requiring, I imagine he's either getting desperate or paranoid," explained Alfred. That made sense to Wulfric. From what he heard, the Southern Markets sat on the island near the bottom-most part of the archipelago. This made the island an important trade hub for goods from both the Norse and Christian Europe. As such, it likely meant that the town received European visitors regularly and maybe has some stores manned by European merchants. But Wulfric still felt that the Jarl may be overreacting to the pirate threat.

"I've fought pirates before. They're not exactly the smartest people in the world. They see shiny goods and they go to get them. All the Jarl would have to do is wait for them to come ashore and then take them down with a shield wall. Surely his men can do that," noted Wulfric.

Alfred provided some clarification by explaining that "From what the registrar up north said, these aren't your average pirates. They're Varangians. Brutal fighters. Some were even former guards to the Roman Emperor in Constantinople. Now they make a living by raiding towns in the archipelago and the Norwegian coast."

"That would explain why the Jarl is looking for extra muscle, but not exactly explain them being "smarter". Unless Hannibal Barca himself is commanding them I don't expect a lot of brains among these pirates," replied Wulfric, though still not convinced on the pirates' supposed tactical prowess. But despite it all, the offer was too good for Wulfric to pass upon. He needed the money to make a living. And the idea of fighting Viking pirates was an interesting prospect for him. A welcome change of pace to the rebellious peasants or bandits that would have likely been his foes if he stayed in England. All that Wulfric needed to worry about was how to get to the Barbaric Archipelago, which was so many leagues northward.

Alfred seemed to have the same thought as he asked "You got enough to pay for passage on a ship to the north?"

"Nah," admitted Wulfric, "I got some coin, but not enough to hire a trader to take me there."

"Hmm," sighed Alfred, before remembering something. Shifting through the parchment pile, he quickly found what he was looking for, as the contents that were written there would be of use to Wulfric.

"What is it?" inquired Wulfric, wondering what Alfred found.

Alfred wasted no time explaining as he informed Wulfric "There's a trader who's got a ship docked at a harbor on the coast. The man is heading out for the Archipelago, the Southern Markets specifically, and he needs a mercenary on his ship to help with security. He's offering thirty silver coins for the one who takes the contract. If you accept this, you'll get your passage to the northern lands and be able to take up your contract with the Jarl. With the bonus of additional coins in your pocket, I might add."

Wulfric had to admit that this was too good to refuse. If he accepted this trader's contract, then not only would he get to his more lucrative one, he'd be able to have some coin in his pocket at the end to get some supplies at the Southern Markets when he arrived. All he had to do was find this trader and arrange for his travel.

"You got a name for this trader? Maybe know where I can find him?" questioned Wulfric.

"You're in luck. He's upstairs in one of the rooms. Due to set out tomorrow for his ship," answered Alfred. He would have spoken more at that moment, but something ended up getting both his and Wulfric's attention.

It seemed that some of the taverns patrons were being a little too rowdy for the owner's taste. A trio of them, all burly and scruffy looking fellows who looked like they had been in a few fights these past recent days, sat at one of the tables in the center of the tavern. They appeared to have had a little too much to drink as they were getting loud, causing problems for the staff. Including one who was grabbing at the pretty serving wench no older than Wulfric, despite her incessant pleas for him to leave her alone. It didn't take a genius to know what the man's intentions were.

"Let go of me! I said, let go!" cried out the serving wench, trying to break free.

"Oh shut up lass. Why don't you come up with me and have some fun?" asked the drunken man, slurring his words.

The owner was trying to get them to calm down, but nothing he did seemed to get them to stop. So with a sign, Wulfric seemed to decide that he would try to get them to stop. Taking the crossbow, Wulfric set the metal footrest on the ground as he took the bowstring and bulled it back to nock the bowstring and ready it to fire. Alfred simply sat and watched for a moment, clearly having figured out what Wulfric was about to do. Deciding to go and get the trader, Alfred got up and slowly began to shuffle up the stairs to fetch him.

Taking a crossbow bolt from the quiver, Wulfric put it in place on the crossbow before taking the contraption in both hands, raising it. and aiming for the trio of drunken fools. He carefully eyed the situation, making sure he fired at the right spot at the right time. Soon, he found his chance as the serving wench broke free from the drunken fool and the hand he had been using to grab her was now open. With slight pressure on the firing lever, the crossbow fired. The bolt flew through the air quickly and hit its target quite accurately. It hit the drunken fool's right hand, impaling through his palm and hitting the post nearby. With his bloody hand now practically nailed to the wall, the drunken man cried out in pain. The drinks he had wasn't enough to numb the pain coming from his hand.

Almost instantly, the mood of the tavern was shattered. The musicians stopped singing, the patrons stopped talking, and all eyes looked to the man whose hand had been impaled into a post by Wulfric's crossbow. Meanwhile, the owner had come out from behind the bar and took the young serving wench and put her behind him to protect her from the drunken trio. Soon, eyes began to turn to Wulfric, who was still sitting there with the crossbow in his hand.

Wulfric soon broke the silence as he smugly warned the man "The lady said "no". Take a hint pal or the next one will do a lot more damage to you."

The man's friends had by this point gotten up and worked to pull out the crossbow bolt from his hand and free him from the post. After several tries, they manage to rip it out, tossing the bloody bolt onto the table as they helped their friend get back up. The injured party was now clutching his bleeding hand, trying to stop the bleeding and deal with the pain. He was also angrily eyeing Wulfric, clearly angry that the young mercenary had injured him. The look in his eyes made it look like he wanted to get even and do so by doing much worse to Wulfric.

However, he would not get his chance at the time. The owner grabbed the bloody crossbow bolt and pointed it at the trio threateningly, saying "You heard what he said. Now I want you three out of here right now before I have him shoot you again."

The trio looked back to Wulfric to see he had already reloaded and was now ready to shoot again if they didn't heed his warning. Add in the continued urgings of the owner, telling them to leave, even going so far as the move three of them along at the tip of the crossbow bolt, the rowdy trio soon departed in haste, but not before giving one final glare at Wulfric which clearly stated: _"This isn't over"_.

Once they were gone, the tavern slowly got back to normal, with the patrons beginning to talk again (with some talking about what just happened), the musicians playing their music again, and the staff returning to work. The owner simply gave Wulfric back the used crossbow bolt and gave him a look saying _"thanks"_ , no doubt for helping the serving wench who worked for him, before he turned away to go back to work (likely to clean up the blood spilled by Wulfric).

As Wulfric took a rag and quickly cleaned the blood off the crossbow bolt, Alfred returned with the trader in question right behind him. The trader was a middle-aged man with dark brown hair and beard tied into a twist knot, with the same for both ends of his long and thick mustache. There was also a large scar under his left eye. As for clothing, it was enough to show he was a rather successful and wealthy merchant. He was wearing a cream-colored dirty sack hat on his head, long-sleeved shirt with a deep blue white-swirled imprinted tunic and deep red sari over it, light gray cloth bracers on his arms (with each bit of cloth goes between the second and third finger), brown belt with a yellow pack and knife around his waist, multi-colored pinstriped trousers, and light brown boots.

It appeared that whoever this man is, he was very good at his job if he had clothes like this. Sitting back down, Alfred introduced the pair, stating "Johann, this is Wulfric Blackwell, the mercenary who's taking your contract. Wulf, this is Trader Johann, the merchant you'll be protecting."

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance my friend," cheerfully introduced Johann, extending his hand for a handshake, which Wulfric accepted.

"I heard you were looking for security," said Wulfric as Johann took a chair from a nearby table and placed it next to the booth, allowing him to sit there with them.

"Indeed. These days, the journey toward the north is often fraught with dangers of all sorts, always changing with the times. Until recently it was the dragons, now it's the pirates that I need protection from," stated Johann, almost confusing Wulfric a bit at the statement.

From what he remembered, for the past couple hundred years, the Vikings of the Barbaric Archipelago were engaged in a war against the native dragon population. For three centuries, the dragons raided the various villages and towns within the islands, taking what they wanted and leaving nothing but ruin in their wake. From what the contract and Johann just now stated, something had happened that Wulfric wasn't aware of.

Alfred appeared to catch on to Wulfric's thoughts, leaning in and informing him "I take it you haven't heard then? The war up north is over. The Vikings took out the dragon queen. And from what I hear, on Berk, they managed to tame the beasts and ride them."

In response to that, Wulfric merely looked at Alfred with a disbelieving look on his face as he sarcastically asked "Right, and I'm King Edward the Confessor. Vikings riding dragons? The things that the Church calls "creatures of the devil"? Really? Do I look like a fool to you Alfred?"

"I can assure you, my good man, that the rumors are true. I have seen it myself when I last came to Berk. I must admit that I was quite terrified to see them so close up, but I was overly jubilant to see them soar through the air without any fear of any attack from them. I tell you, my friend, it is true," added Johann, affirming that he had to say was a simple truth. Nothing more and nothing less.

Whether or not this was true or not simply didn't matter to Wulfric. To him, all he needed was to keep Johann safe on their journey so that he would be able to get to the north. And so that Wulfric can accept his bigger contract for the Jarl of the Southern Markets. If this was true and the Vikings of the north had managed to tame dragons, then he would find out once he got there.

"Alright. Anyway, when do you plan on setting out?" asked Wulfric, taking a sip from his tankard.

"I plan to set out for the harbor in the morning, around the crack of dawn. With luck, we shall be out on the open water by noon at the latest," cheerfully answered Johann.

"Well then, I say we enjoy ourselves while we can," stated Wulfric.

And just as he said that they could hear the sound of the musicians beginning to play a tune that all three of them knew. It was a tune that people throughout Europe has heard of. It was a short ballad about the fall of a prince from the Roman Empire of old and his desire for revenge. Even amidst all the murmurs of the patrons throughout the tavern, the trio could still hear the song being played, and one of the musicians, a young and pretty girl, start to sing the tune.

_Stormheart, Roman fame,  
Raise your shield of shame.  
Stormheart's letter caught,  
Left unfought, defamed._

_Armor laced with blood,  
Shall reclaim his name.  
Stormheart's broken heart,  
Shall revoke his claim._

_Stormheart, prince of dread,  
He hath lost his way.  
Stormheart's martyr rage,  
Soon the world will pay._

**_Meanwhile,  
Up in the Barbaric Archipelago _ **

_"At the moment, I felt that this was going to be another contract in my life as a mercenary. But even then, I could not foresee the way that my life would change once I arrived. Nor would I have known of the dangerous forces that were currently at work."_

On an isle within the Barbaric Archipelago, draped in darkness by the night sky, there was much activity happening on this seemingly long-abandoned isle. The isle was a fair-sized one, with trees, grass, a beach with its cove, tall cliffs, and in the center, an active volcanic mountain, as seen with the billowing smoke coming from the top. On several locations within the island, were a series of three fortified villages, illuminated only by the moonlight and the glow of the torches. With wooden walls, watchtowers, banners, and siege emplacements surrounding a series of buildings, they served as symbols for the group that held power over this island. The largest was located right next to the main beach, likely as the main base of who controlled this island. The smaller settlements were located at the high ground on either side of the entrance to the cove, likely to serve as outposts to guard the entrance.

At the beach was a large harbor where several vessels, both big and small, were tied up at the docks and anchored in the cove. There were enough ships within the cove to serve as a small fleet. But what was most interesting was the site located next to the volcano, right behind the main fortified settlement. It was a large building that extended from the ground up along the side of the volcano. As smoke was billowing from the chimney, inside there was even much more work going in.

The facility on the inside was like one massive blacksmithy. In the building, multiple large forges were alit with the light from them illuminating the room. At each station, blacksmiths worked at forging various weapons: swords, spears, axes, even armor. They were heating the metal in furnaces, grinding the metal to shape, and hammering it down on an anvil. With the many blacksmiths and assistants working, the work was nowhere near quiet. But despite the noise, the heat, and the sweat that soaked the bodies of the blacksmiths, they continued their work, forcing these weapons and armor before piling them up in carts.

While this work was going on, there was one man on one of the upper walkways observing what was happening. Up there, he was safe from the fire and burning embers, and the light from the forges managed to help make out his form. He was a strong, burly, muscular individual whose presence would likely command a whole room. Over his clothing, he wore chainmail with leather armor covering it. There was also a grey wolf pelt wrapped around his shoulders, possibly a prize from a past hunt that he skinned and wore as a trophy. The chainmail also extended to cover his arms, chest, and his hips, with a horn hanging off the backside of his waist. His metal helmet is a peaked cap made from four plates after the common spangenhelm pattern helmet. At the brim, it has leather drapes protecting the back and sides of his neck. The helmet also has a "spectacle" guard around the eyes and nose which forms a sort of mask. The rest of his face was covered up with a thick graying brown beard knotted at the end. In short, he was a tough and intimidating figure, and no one would question that he was the one in charge on this island and all who lived there.

As he oversaw the work, one of his men approached him on the walkway. Kneeling before him in respect, he spoke "Lord Stormheart, we're almost finished with the weapons. But we don't have enough metal to finish the work."

Turning to face the man, the boss said "Then perhaps it's time to gather some more once again. Assemble a war band. Go a Viking. Raid and plunder every island you can find for metal and supplies. And if anyone stands in your way, send them to Hel."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, leave a review on what you think of this chapter. And if you want to talk to me about this story or have a question about it, please send a PM and I will answer this as best as I can. For now, see you next time.
> 
> \- Heinkelboy05


	2. A Week Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wulfric and Johann continue their journey northwards to the Barbaric Archipelago. On Berk, Hiccup and the gang are enjoying their new life with dragons when an envoy from another clan comes to Berk to ask for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note here, the village of the Isle of Berk is a lot bigger here in this story that it is in the series. Aside from the settlement seen in the series, located on the small island next to the nearby larger ones. The idea is that the village also extends to these islands, with houses and other buildings set up there and connected via bridges or by land. The part of Berk you see in the series is just a small part of the settlement, with the number of Vikings here somewhere in the thousands.
> 
> Also, the Barbaric Archipelago here is located where it is according to the HTTYD wiki, situated in the Norwegian and Greenland seas, and is in between Norway, Greenland, and Iceland. Not making them the same shape as Hiccup's map (as in it being in a circle). Working on it but I think instead of there being an open circle with Berk in the center, it could be the same shape but with more islands or perhaps just dotting over the whole Greenland and Norwegian seas. Either way, there are going to be a lot of islands, and a lot of various villages and islands. Berk is located at the southern parts of it, and much of the archipelago is undiscovered, so keeping that in mind when New Berk comes around.
> 
> In the end, I just hope that I do right here in delivering this story as both a HTTYD story while helping to keep it both entertaining as well as historically authentic for the Viking era. This is my first HTTYD story so I want to do my best here in making it a good one here. If anyone has any idea as to what historical Viking info I can add here or any HTTYD ideas, I'd greatly appreciate any that you can provide.
> 
> Other than that, enjoy the story.

_(Note: I do not own anything. This is purely for entertainment purposes only.)_

_**Six days Later...** _   
_**Isle of Berk** _

Nearly three weeks have passed since the end of the Dragon War, and Berk has finally rebuilt the damages that have been done since the dragon raids, restoring it to peak condition. For the first time in the past three hundred years, the Isle of Berk was now at peace. And the several thousand Vikings who called Berk home were thankful for that. The dragons had also settled well into Berk, taking up residence in the forests or the high cliffs of the isle as their home. And during the day, they were now often found wandering around the village where the Berkians would interact with them.

Not to say that there weren't certain...problems and difficulties that arose now that the dragons were now living among the villagers. Certain things had to be addressed and Stoick had Hiccup and his friends tasked with fixing them. Almost all of these problems included how to adjust things for the dragons. So far, along with having most of the dragons manage to take up residence elsewhere on the island as not to crowd the village (though the group's dragons still resided in the village). Other problems included working on more permanent housing for the dragons, ways to feed them, clean up after them, etc. So far, Hiccup was able to quickly fix a few of these problems through inventions of his, though the tasks seem to keep mounting, one atop the next.

So to try and get away from the pile of tasks, Hiccup and his friends decided to take to the skies and have their races with their dragons. They would set up their routes for where to fly, where the finish line would be, and how many laps they would do, with all three seemingly changing each time they do this. And now, the time for another one of those races had come. At the edge of the village, near the entrance to the docks, Hiccup and the others were lined up on their dragons. By now Hiccup's friends had all received new saddles for their mounts, courtesy of Gobber, and have named their dragons, with Astrid, Snotlout, Fishlegs, as well as Ruffnut and Tuffnut naming their dragons Stormfly, Hookfang, Meatlug, and Barf and Belch respectively. Soon, the Dragon Riders of Berk (as they were named by the villagers of Berk) were set to take off on another one of their races. They just needed to finalize a few things.

"Okay so around the island, and the first person who passes here three times wins," stated Astrid, starting off the rules.

"And like before that means the whole island, no shortcuts," added Hiccup.

This caused a retort by Snotlout, who crossed his arms and asked accusingly "You're never going to let that go, aren't you Hiccup?"

Of course, Hiccup knew what Snotlout was talking about. In their last race, Snotlout tried to cheat to win. To do that, he and Hookfang decided to take a shortcut that they had found a few days prior in the form of a tunnel, and use it when no one was looking so that he would come up ahead. And it almost worked...somewhat. The problem was that he didn't scout out the tunnel when he found it. So when he went in, he ended up stirring the proverbial hornet's nest as some of the dragons that moved into Berk had made the cave their temporary home. The next time the other riders saw him in the next lap of the race, he and Hookfang were flying away in the opposite direction, chased by several angry dragons, with Snotlout screaming at the top of his lungs the whole way back to the village. The group eventually found out what had happened and called out Snotlout for it.

"You really think we're just going to ignore the fact you tried to cheat?" questioned Astrid.

"Oh, come on! I didn't-" started Snotlout before he noticed Astrid's expression which frightened him a bit, causing him to try and change his statement "Okay so maybe I tried to cheat. But I didn't even get to do that! I was being chased by a bunch of angry dragons!"

"You still tried to cheat!" pointed out Astrid.

"She does have a point, Snotlout," added Hiccup.

"Oh, thank you, cousin, for throwing me under the cart," sarcastically stated Snotlout, not liking how his cousin just sold him out.

"Well to be fair, Snotlout does tend to cheat whenever we enter a contest he can't win fairly," pointed out Fishlegs, speaking the truth based on experience.

Snotlout turned to Fishlegs and opened his mouth to argue. But then, realizing Fishlegs words and the futility of trying to talk back, he simply turned away, crossed his arms, and muttered under his breath "Shut up, Fishface."

"Well this time, I'm going to win the race," proudly proclaimed Tuffnut.

This only earned him a rebuttal from his sister, who got up in his face and rebuked "No, _I'm_ going to win."

"I am!" shot back Tuffnut.

Before they could continue, Fishlegs interrupted when he reminded them "Um, you guys do know you're on the same dragon, right?"

"Oh, right. Sorry," stated Ruffnut as she and her brother moved away from each other.

"Okay, well, on three we start the race. Get ready," announced Hiccup. Soon, the riders and their dragons took up positions like riders with their chariots in the days of Ancient Rome. They were like coiled springs, ready to burst forward with all the pent up energy that they had stored up. All they waited for was one word and they would take off as fast as they could to the skies above. They all listened as Hiccup counted down slowly, from 5...4...3...2...

_**"STOP!"** _

Just when the riders and their dragons were about to take off, a booming voice filled the air and immediately caused them to stop. Some of the dragons were about to jump that the sudden voice caused them to go do an abrupt halt, stumbling forwards and almost falling off the side of the cliff. It caused some of the riders (primarily Snotlout and Fishlegs) to fall forward out of their saddles. They managed to remain on their dragons by reacting quickly enough to grab their heads and hold on real tight. As those two climbed back onto their dragons and the others recovered from this false start, all were wondering who said that.

"Whoa, Hiccup, when did your voice get so deep?" asked a puzzled Tuffnut, fixing his helmet.

"Yeah, what happened to your annoying nasally high non-Viking voice?" added Tuffnut, poking fun at Hiccup a bit.

"Haha, very funny guys," sarcastically commented Hiccup before adding in a more serious tone, "It wasn't me."

"It was me, you dunderheads," stated that same deep voice. The dragons and their riders then turned around to see none other than Stoick approaching them with Gobber not far behind. And judging from the look upon Stoick's face, he wasn't happy about something. Though thankfully it was just his " _annoyed as a Dragur"_ face and not his _"ready to rip someone's head off"_ face. Once he approached the Hiccup and the others, he informed them "Whatever race you all are planning, I want you to stop it. Now. The last time you did this it went out of hand."

"It wasn't _that_ out of hand, Chief," claimed Astrid.

"Snotlout and his dragon came barreling down into the village, chased by a group of very angry dragons. He trashed the marketplace, caused a panic, and almost blew up the goods storehouse in the process. What else would you call it other than it getting out of hand?" explained Stoick, not liking Astrid's response to this. Immediately, Snotlout felt like he wanted to shrink back and avoid the Chief's wrath. When he was escaping the angry dragons, he had rushed to the village in an attempt to try and lose them amidst the buildings. And he did silently admit that he may have caused some chaos in the effort, with screaming people and property damage all around.

"And to add to that, Mildew spent the next hour complaining about the matter," stated Gobber before adding, "Though to be fair, it's not like he needs much of a reason to complain anyway. Especially when it concerns dragons."

"Look, Dad, it's not like we're trying to cause you extra problems here," pointed out Hiccup.

Stoick merely sighed before explaining to Hiccup, "Hiccup, I'm grateful for what you and your friends did in that battle with the Red Death. The whole village is grateful, both for that and the peace that's followed since the war's end. But you need to remember that people here aren't used to life with dragons living among us. And you all flying about and causing damage isn't helping to fix the problem. I have no objections to you all having a bit of fun once and a while. But since you lot seem to be the ones who have taken the most interest in this new lifestyle of ours, I'd like you to take charge and try and make it work for the rest of us."

"Dad, I have been helping you know. All of us have. It's not like all we've been doing are these races," pointed out Hiccup. And this was true, though some of the Dragon Riders were more productive than others, as Snotlout and the Twins merely continued what they did before the end of the war.

"I know son. All I'm asking is that starting now, you do what you can to ease everyone into this without causing more problems in the process. Understood?" said Stoick.

Before Hiccup could respond, the air was soon filled by the sound of someone blowing a large and loud horn. It blew one loud note before ending. Of course, everyone in Berk knew what this horn meant. It was blown whenever there was a ship spotted in the distance heading towards Berk. The horn was usually blown if there was either a merchant ship or unknown vessel, a ship or several carrying important envoys, or an enemy fleet that was moving in for an attack. The number of times the horn is blown indicated which of the three was heading towards Berk. Other Viking villages from those in the archipelago and those that remained in Scandinavia had something similar set up as well.

Soon, all those present at the cliff turned and looked out towards the distance. Looking out onto the water, there was a lone Viking longship that was heading their way. Squinting his eyes and using his hand to block out the sun, Gobber noted "Looks like we may need to table that discussion for later Stoick. We've got some unknown guests to attend to."

"It can't be Johann, he's not due to come into Berk for a few days," said Fishlegs, quickly surmising that the unknown boat wasn't Johann's.

"Aye. And we aren't supposed to have any guests coming in...well as far as I can remember at least," informed Gobber.

"Whoever it is, they came here for a reason. I'll go and deal with them while you all have your little race," said Stoick, looking to Hiccup and the others before turning to Gobber and saying, "And Gobber?"

"Yes, Chief?" he asked.

"Make sure they don't cause any more damage to the village this time," ordered Stoick plainly before he turned and walked down towards the path leading to the docks.

"You got it, Stoick, I'll make sure of it," replied Gobber.

Turning to face the others, Gobber then proceeded to at least start and lay out some rules for their race. But before he could do so, he saw that the riders and their dragons were no longer standing on the edge. Instinctively looking up, Gobber found them now flying up high towards the sky before turning hard to the left. It was clear that they had no intention of ever listening to him, preferring to just carry on with their race. With that, Gobber did a facepalm before muttering to himself "Why do I even bother?"

_**Meanwhile...** _   
_**Northern Edge of the North Sea** _

As it cuts through the cold waters of the North Sea, Johann's ship continued its long trek towards the Barbarich Archipelago. Byt this point, Johann and his crew were now only a day or less away from their destination. Thankfully they had not encountered any storms along their path, or any rough seas for that matter. In these waters, a storm could potentially delay travel by a day if they were still docked in a harbor. And if they were at sea, these storms could potentially throw them off course, taking the crew several days longer to reach their destination. But thankfully for them, and Johann, they managed to have a bit of good luck on this voyage. As such, Johann's ship would reach the Southern Markets by this time tomorrow.

Johann's ship was one that was perfect for his line of work. It was a type of ship common for nations that bordered the North Sea, especially merchants: a cog. It was certainly larger than the Viking longships that were found in the Norse dominated north. And it's larger cargo space down below in the lower deck allowed it to carry more cargo than a Viking _Knarr_ longship, making it ideal for a merchant like Johann.

The ship had was made of oak, was over eight feet long, and was twenty-six feet wide, allowing it to dwarf most Viking longships. The ship had one main deck and a raised aft deck which had the ship's wheel on deck and below the deck housed Johann's personal quarters. On the main deck was a single mast with a crow's nest on top. The mast had one square-rigged sail, with the sail stylized with red and white horizontal lines dyed upon it. All around the main deck and down below, Johann's crew of twenty sailors worked their various duties around the ship: scrubbing the deck, making sure the sail rigging held up, some even ate some provisions on break.

As for Wulfric, he was also on deck, wearing his clothes, weapons, and armor, acting as the security to Johann's expedition. Though currently he like some of the other crew was on break. Sitting upon a small crate near the railing of the ship, currently cutting up an apple with a small knife and eating the slices as he enjoyed the quiet. A quiet that was about to be shattered as Johann walked over to him.

Taking a seat on another crate next to him, Johann spoke with his usual glee "Ah, I love this. Traveling across a large and beautiful expanse of water to peddle my wares. These are the kind of things that I enjoy. The salty smell of the ocean breeze, the endless cerulean skies above us-"

His sentence was cut short when the sound of a sailor vomiting over the side of the ship drew their attention, with both Wulfric and Johann turning their heads to the sight of a poor soul throwing up before sliding down to rest along the ship's railing.

"The sight of a man emptying the contents of his stomach into the sea for the fish to eat?" sarcastically asked Wulfric, finishing Johann's sentence.

"Eh, that sight is one that I can do without. Though I will admit that it took me quite some time before I got my own "sea legs" as the sailors say," admitted Johann.

After finishing eating a slice of apple, Wulfric explained to Johann "Well that's what happens when you end up feasting till you're stomach's full on a rickety, old ship that rocks back and forth on the North Sea. Can't be good for anyone's stomach."

Johann then replied that "True, But at least for that poor soul his troubles will be over once we have docked at the Southern Markets."

"Perhaps, though I will admit that I'm not sure if I'm ready for a taste of Norsemen hospitality. My people and the men of the north don't exactly have a pleasurable history between us," admitted Wulfric, not sure what to expect when the ship reached their destination.

"Worry not, my English compatriot. You can have my assurance that the people we will meet here are quite friendly," assured Johann, trying to dissuade Wulfric's concerns.

Wulfric merely let out a scoff as he threw the apple core into the sea before sarcastically commenting "Right. And I suppose the Great Heathen Army was just visiting England as a band of travelers?"

For Wulfric, and many in England, they remembered the tales of the Great Heathen Army. A massive army of Vikings that invaded England two hundred years ago. They ravaged the country, burning towns, stealing what they could, and conquering the various petty kingdoms that made up England before they were stopped by the armies of Alfred the Great, the King of Wessex, and the man who laid the groundwork for what would become the Kingdom of England. It took quite a while longer for the English to push the Vikings out of England entirely. And since then, they still suffer the occasional Viking raid on a coastal port or village. So it was safe to say that since the Great Raid on the Lindisfarne Abbey in 793 CE, the people of the Isles of Britannia have had rather strained if not hostile relations with the Norse raiders of the northern lands of Europe. To the people of England (along with the rest of Europe), the Vikings are barbarians and ungodly pagans who raid, pillage, plunder, rape, and murder for a living. Wulfric wasn't sure how the Vikings saw Christian Europe, but he imagined their views were similar.

"I shall admit, to my deep regret, that relations between the Norse and the people of England, Wales, Alba, and the Eire have not always been good. But I will stress the fact that there are good people on both sides, as the saying goes," noted Johann.

"Well, I've definitely seen both when it comes to my home. Wonder how it looks for the men of the north. Know any good ones?" inquired Wulfric, wondering if there truly were any good Vikings out there...and hoping that these would be the ones he would meet at the Southern Markets.

"Of course my friend. In fact, I can personally guarantee that I am on good terms with several individuals on the Isle of Berk, the seat of power for the Hooligan Clan, a collection of five Norse houses who have been on that island for almost five hundred years," answered Johann proudly.

Wulfric merely looked at him with a bewildered expression on his face upon hearing the words _'Hooligan Clan'_. To Wulfric, that appeared to be both a very ridiculous and unassuming name to brand a group of Norse who lived this far north, at the very northern edge of the known world. As far as he could tell, if any group of people wanted to garner fear and respect, they could at least pick a name for themselves that didn't cause people to snicker or laugh at them.

Johann appeared to have picked up on Wulfric's thoughts, before adding "I know, I know. Not the most glamorous of names. But then again, Vikings generally have foolish names in general. At least the ones in Berk that I am aware of."

"Okay, so do you know why the Vikings of Berk have these ridiculous names? Is it just to make people laugh at them when they launch a raid or is there actually some purpose like it's something from their religion? Like an edict from the Gods or something?" inquired Wulfric, though internally wondering why he was even bothering to ask.

"I do believe that it is to scare away trolls or other such creatures if I remember it correctly," answered Johann.

"Trolls? Really? Forget I asked," said Wulfric, finally having enough of this topic. Getting up from his seat, he walked over to one of the nearby crates and pulled out a bottle of cheap wine. Taking his knife, he quickly checked off the cork before putting the blade back in its sheathe and taking a swig from the bottle. If this was an expensive bottle of wine then Johann would have had a problem with it. Luckily the expensive stuff was tucked below with the rest of the cargo while this cheap stuff was simply for the crew to drink when not on duty. After all, this stuff was diluted enough that it would take a lot of this stuff to make one drunk, or at the very least cause one to be seeing double. So it was perfect to drink at least while one was working. And for Wulfric, since he was not needed unless they were attacked by pirates, dragons, or the occasional angry Viking war band, he could enjoy this drink in relative peace. At least until Johann pulled him back into another conversation, this time with a suggestion of his.

"I will of course explain more tonight if you have changed your mind. Although for now, I shall be a fellow sport and allow you to decide what our next topic of conversation will be. Any decisions?" suggested Johann, walking up to Wulfric, taking one of the bottles and opening it himself.

Wulfric merely looked at him and jokingly asked "I don't know, what do you want me to do? Sing a song?"

"Do you even know any songs, Englishman?" asked one of the crew as he passed by, listening in on the conversation as he carried a small crate.

"A few. But I'm not much of a singer. You want to hear singing, go find a bard," replied Wulfric, getting a small chuckle out of the crewman.

"Oh come now Master Wulfric, you must know a song. Perhaps a good sea shanty?" questioned Johann.

Wulfric countered with "I may come from a big fucking island, but that doesn't mean I know a sea shanty...well, actually I do but I've never really sung it out loud in front of people I know little about."

"Come on Saxon. Sing a little. At the very least, it should help pass the time," coerced the sailor.

With a deep and reluctant sigh, Wulfric relented and decided to sing. He was familiar with this particular song. It was an old Viking song that his mother used to sing for him when he was little. And despite all these years later, he still could recall the lyrics with absolute clarity. After all, the song didn't really have much in lyrics, as it was two parts of the song that just got repeated four times. Clearing his throat, he started the song.

_My mother told me_   
_Someday I would buy_   
_Galley with good oars_   
_Sail to distant shores_

_Stand upon the prow_   
_Noble barque I steer_   
_Steady course to the haven_   
_Hew many foe-men_   
_Hew many foe-men_

As he got to sing the second verse, the sailor and Johann had joined in as well, adding their voices to his. Gradually, the other sailors on deck joined in as well, until a whole chorus of them were singing this song. If they could keep this up, it just might help them pass the time until they reached the Southern Markets.

_**An hour or so later...** _   
_**Back on Berk** _

Hiccup and his friends managed to finish their race quickly and to no one's surprise, Hiccup was again the winner of the race. It helped that his mount was a Night Fury, which put him ahead of all his friends in the race. And of course, after the race, Astrid congratulated Hiccup while Snotlout pouted about losing and swearing to win the next race. Of course, he never would despite how much he boasted. And as for the twins, they simply caused chaos during the race as they always did, and enjoyed every second of it.

Once they landed, a messenger was there waiting for them, telling Hiccup and the others to head towards the Great Hall. He said that Stoick and their new guest wanted to see Hiccup right away and that it was urgent. The group knew that if Stoick considered something urgent, it was something that they all had to immediately drop whatever they were doing and do what the Chief said. So with that, they moved to the center of Berk, where a large mountain towered over the land. There, the Great Hall was carved into it. With its towering oak doors and statues of Vikings flanking the entrance, it was perhaps the most impressive structure on Berk and considered perhaps it's beating heart. And often, whenever guests came to Berk, that was where they were escorted to have an audience with the Chief of Berk.

Pushing open the great oak doors, Hiccup and the others walked inside the hall, and the inside was as grand as one could imagine it. The ceiling was high up, completely untouchable, and held up by great stone pillars engraved with Nordic symbols, images, and runes. The walls were lined with elaborate carvings, tapestries, and other assorted decorations, with lit torches spaced along the walls to provide light for the large room. Long tables lined the hall, with stumps from trees used as seats, with fur pelts lining the lanes in between to act as rugs. At the far end of the hall was a finely carved table, with more elaborate seats at that table, facing the rest of the room. The seat in the middle was the largest and most elaborate, with a grey wolf pelt draped over it, indicating that this was the chair for Stoick the Vast, the Chief of the Hooligan tribe, and the Jarl of Berk.

This was placed on a slightly elevated platform, with it allowing whoever was seated or standing there to look over the room entirely and those inside of it. Much like how a King in mainland Europe would do in the throne room of his own castle. And there, Stoick was apparently talking to someone, likely the person who had arrived earlier on the longship. He and Stoick were talking on the platform while two guards cloaked in pelts and armor stood guard at the foot of the pedestal.

As the group approached, Stoick noticed them arriving. Gesturing to their approaching guests, Stoick announced "And here he is, Jarl. The pride of Berk himself."

"And so it is," said the man, with a friendly smile upon his face. As he walked down the steps and past his guards, the gang got a better look at the man before them.

He was a fit man, though less imposing compared to Stoick. Despite it all, he seemed to have a rather friendly air around him. Age-wise, he seemed to be simply a man in his late twenties to early thirties with brown hair that he shaved along the sides of his temples, combing the rest back into a typical Viking hairstyle, with s short braid tied at the back of his head. To pair with that, he had a brown beard and mustache to complement his hairstyle. The man also wore several Nordic tattoos on his hands, the sides of his temples, and on his forehead as well. The blue ink to make them visible was almost the same color as his eyes, a shade of light blue.

He wore a fine set of fine bluish-green clothing with bits of gold designs and etchings, denoting his wealth and presumably high status. Over his clothing, he wore a nice set of leather armor over his torso and forearms, as well as fine leather boots, though faded a bit from traveling. The man wore a pair of fine golden armbands, one each arm, as well as a belt with a large silver buckle on the front. Draped over his shoulders was a fine fox pelt. Finally, on his belt was a pair of interesting items: Tied to his back was a horn, either used for drinking or for blowing into to make a loud noise. The other was a one-handed bearded ax that was tied to the man's right hip.

By now, Stoick was stepping down from the platform, and as he approached, he announced "Hiccup, this is Sigurd Styrbjornsson, the Jarl of the Southern Markets."

"My father Styrbjorn is the King of the Southern Markets islands and leader of the Raven Clan. He rules from the town of Fornburg, on the main island," added Sigurd, looking to Hiccup, "And you must be Stoick's son Hiccup. It is an honor to finally meet you in person. I have heard many great things from you."

"You have?" asked Hiccup, almost surprised to hear someone has heard _good_ things about him.

"Of course. Word has spread far and wide about you: Hiccup Stoicksson of House Haddock, the son Berk's Jarl, the mighty Stoick the Vast. The boy who tamed the mighty _drakkar_ and turned them into _thralls._ I can hardly imagine accomplishing such a feat. To bring the beasts of Odin to kneel before you. That alone is quite an honor for one as young as yourself. A feat worthy of your own saga my friend," explained Sigurd, whose tone showed that he was almost proud of what Hiccup had done.

Hiccup wasn't sure whether to be proud or worried about this new reputation that Sigurd had just told him about. Throughout his life, he had grown up having the exact opposite of a good reputation among the people of Berk. Growing up, he was often called _'Hiccup the Useless'_ and often criticized for all of the damages he brought upon the village in his attempts to prove himself to his father and the villagers. However, that all stopped once he and Toothless defeated the Red Death, ending the Dragon War.

Since then, he saw how he was treated by the people of Berk. It was much like when he was rising through the ranks of Dragon Training. People no longer avoided him but instead greeted him when he walked by. For a man who spent nearly all his life being called useless or just being the bane of his village, Hiccup was still entirely unused to receiving all of this praise. Snotlout on the other hand...was something else altogether.

Not wanting his cousin to get all of the fame and attention, Snotlout pushed his way to the front to get some of the spotlight for himself. Flexing his muscles to Sigurd, he asked "But have you heard of _me_?"

"And you are?" asked Sigurd, unsure as to where this was going.

Still flexing his muscles, Snotlout continued with "The name's Snotlout. The _mighty_ Snotlout Spiteloutsson, of House Jorgenson, the fearless leaders of the Dragon Riders of Berk. Destroyer of castles, slayer of Christians, and-"

Before he could continue, Astrid had decided to cut him off before he could finish. The last thing their guest needed was to hear any of Snotlout's tall tales. So acting quickly, she grabbed one of Snotlout's arms and twisted it back, electing a screech of pain from Snotlout whose own facial expression showed the extent of such pain.

"And he's also my cousin," said Hiccup, finishing Snotlout's statement for him.

"And he's also not the leader of the Dragon Riders. He is however the most boastful out of all of us," added Astrid, pulling Snotlout back behind the group before letting him go. Upon being released, Snotlout immediately went to work rubbing his arm in hopes of removing the pain.

"Heh, I know the feeling lass. I have some cousins of my own who are like that," replied Sigurd, understanding the situation, "And your name would be, miss?"

Hiccup answered that question, introducing Astrid and the others one-by-one by saying "This is Astrid Hákonsdóttir of House Hofferson. The others are Fishlegs Karsisson of House Ingerman, Tuffnut Tórsnutsson, and his twin sister Ruffnut Tórsnutsdóttir, both of House Thorston."

"Well, it is a pleasure to meet you all," replied Sigurd in response.

"Sigurd here has come to Berk at the request of his father. Apparently, there is some trouble in the Southern Markets and they need our help in resolving them," informed Stoick, bringing up the real reason why Sigurd is here.

"Yes, it appears your victory over the Red Death has created some unexpected consequences. Due to the dragon raids ending, pirates have begun to grow bold. There has been an increase in pirate attacks, both against trade ships and small settlements around the Southern Markets. It has already cost my father a good deal of silver, goods, and several lives in the settlements near our borders. My father has tasked me and my sister to find a solution to this problem. So I have come to Berk to request the help of your father, but more specifically, for the help of you and your riders," explained Sigurd as tactfully as he could.

It didn't take long for the group to comprehend what Sigurd was asking of them. He was hoping to use the Dragon Riders to use their mounts in a battle against the pirates, burning their base to tinders and setting their ships alight to be sunk to the bottom of the sea. No doubt that with the dragons, along with the _húskarls_ and _drengr_ of the Southern Markets, Sigurd believed that it would be enough to send this band of pirates running away in a hurry. On paper, it seemed like an overall good plan. However, Hiccup was unsure as to this proposal. However, some of the other riders thought differently.

"So wait, we get to blow stuff up?" asked Tuffnut, getting excited at the idea.

"With dragons?" added Ruffnut, equally excited, as if someone had just given her the best present ever. Both she and her brother then asked in unison "WHEN DO WE LEAVE?!"

"Oh, I'm in. Snotlout is ready to fight!" shouted Snotlout, before releasing his own Viking war cry.

"I'm more interested in seeing the Southern Markets. I've heard that there are some interesting books there that I am just dying to read. It could help me out with this-," started Fishlegs before Snotlout put a hand over his mouth, uninterested in what he had to say.

With a shrug, Astrid simply summed this up as "Looks like we're heading south Hiccup."

"I guess so," said Hiccup, looking to his father and asking "When do you want us to go there?"

"You're leaving with the Jarl tomorrow morning. For now, he is our honored guest. I have already given him and his men guest rights for the night. At nightfall, we'll have a feast here in the great hall in their honor. So find Gobber, we've got a lot of work to do with such short notice," answered Stoick before setting them to their new task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Old Norse to English Translation
> 
> 1\. Draugr - Revenant. A reanimated deceased man of Norse legend.
> 
> 2\. Knarr - A type of Viking longship used as a merchant ship to carry cargo.
> 
> 3\. Drakkar - The Old Norse word for dragons.
> 
> 4\. Thralls - Slaves. Vikings often had slaves taken from their raiding.
> 
> 5\. Húskarls - Elite infantry of northern Europe. Differentiated from common soldiers due to training, armament, and armor.
> 
> 6\. Drengr - Old Norse word for warriors. Here it is associated with common Viking warriors in this story.
> 
> I hope you all liked this one. Had to do some research on certain things for this chapter, such as the naming conventions used by Vikings, along with some ships and Norse words as well. Will try and do some more research for later chapters. Again, will take whatever historical or HTTYD suggestions you can offer in order to make this story better.
> 
> Also if you haven't noticed, yes, this Sigurd is the one from the new Assassin's Creed Valhalla. I mentioned that I would bring parts of that into the story, along with the already stated historical information, and bits and pieces from Vinland saga, the Vikings TV series, the Vikings of For Honor, and HTTYD in general.
> 
> Also, as a note. slightly altered the time this takes place as stated in the first chapter. Corrected it to this taking place in late 1059. Hiccup and the gang are the same age they are when the story begins (as far as Riders, Defenders of Berk begins in 1060) so they'll be the same age when this begins. This means by the time of the Hidden World, in 1066, they will be the age they are in the movie. Hoping that this all fits. (though this way it does allow me to fit the short films set at this point). Also corrected the Southern Markets here in a way, having them be a collection of islands close together instead of just one.
> 
> Also, since this is set in a more historically authentic version of the series, that means the proportions of people are more lifelike in comparison to how they appear in the cities. Basically how the people of Berk, others, and the enemies they fight all dress historically (or for a better visual, imagine what they dress like in the Vikings series or any series or film set in the era.). Not sure why I am saying this. But I am.
> 
> Lastly...and probably something the deserves the least amount of attention, Jarl here is basically the equivalent of Duke or Earl in Viking society.
> 
> As always, leave a review on what you think of this chapter. And if you want to talk to me about this story or have a question about it, please send a PM and I will answer this as best as I can. For now, see you next time.
> 
> \- Heinkelboy05


	3. UPDATE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An update on the progress of this story and the new version I have planned.

_(Note: I do not own anything. This is purely for entertainment purposes only.)_

Hello everyone. Sorry to be telling you this but I'm halting progress on this particular story. I'm sorry but several factors have contributed to me shutting this down. For the past couple of weeks, this story has given me a bit of grief in terms of a couple of harsh messages that I've received from a few people regarding my approach to this story. That, along with a quick look over the story, made me realize that it wasn't quite as good as I had originally envisioned it. I'm just glad I figured that out early instead of much later as I did for another story of mine. So for now, I am going to take a break from the HTTYD fandom and look over my notes. I will come back at some point with a new and improved version of this story, but only once I have determined what I can fix, what I can change, and have a more solid idea as to the direction of the story. I'm not giving up on this idea, just to be clear. I am just going to take a break to look over my notes and create a more concrete idea for how to do this story before I return to it. The revised story will likely appear sometime after the end of the holidays. Again, I am really sorry for the inconvenience.

Other than that, have a Merry Christmas everyone and a Happy New Year.

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, and this is the prologue for my Historical AU HTTYD fanfic. I would appreciate any help that one would offer for this story such as ideas, advice, or historical items that I could use for the story to make it more historically authentic as well as perhaps ideas and such that I could add. I welcome all help and will do what I can to implement as many ideas as I can.
> 
> As always, leave a review on what you think of this chapter. And if you want to talk to me about this story or have a question about it, please send a PM and I will answer this as best as I can. For now, see you next time.
> 
> \- Heinkelboy05


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